Whispers of Deception

prelude

T here are whispers—do you hear them?

Sweet melodies drifted from the grave, luring the living into their song. Soft at first, a distant echo carried on the wind. But as the shadows deepened, the voices grew stronger, more insistent.

“Over there! Over there!”

The words dance in the air, taunting, pulling.

Willow ran.

Her breath was ragged, each inhale sharp as the cold night pressed in. The trees towered above her, their twisted limbs clawing at the sky, blocking out the stars. Darkness consumed the path ahead. Her footsteps echoed through the forest, each one faster than the last, yet it felt as if she were going nowhere. Every branch she pushed past snapped back at her like bony fingers, trying to hold her, trap her.

She could feel him behind her. Closer now. Always closer.

“Over there!” the whispers hissed, their tone shifting from a haunting lullaby to frantic urgency.

She didn’t know where she was running. The woods were a maze—every direction the same, every turn a dead end. Fear wrapped around her chest, squeezing tight, and yet she ran—because stopping meant death.

Leaves crunched beneath her feet. The whispers twisted in her ears, blending with the rush of her pulse. Her legs burned, but she couldn’t slow down. Not yet. Not until she found a way out.

“Over there!” they screamed now, shrill and desperate.

Her heart pounded in rhythm with her footsteps, thudding like a drum of impending doom. The shadows stretched, growing longer, darker, until they seemed alive, swallowing the last of the light. Her vision blurred—a mix of sweat, tears, and the suffocating darkness around her. She dared to glance back, for a moment—just to see. And in that moment, she saw the shape moving toward her, his presence a silhouette darker than the night.

But no face. Just shadows.

Willow stumbled, her foot catching on a root that rose from the earth to trip her. She crashed to the ground, pain shooting through her hands as they scraped against the dirt. She was up again in seconds, blood dripping from her palms, but now she was limping. Had she broken her leg? The whispers were louder, all around her, surrounding her like a storm.

“Over there!” the chorus grew frenzied, echoing through the trees. But Willow couldn’t find where they were pointing. She couldn’t find safety.

The sound of his footsteps was no longer a distant threat. They were here. Just behind her. Her lungs screamed for air, but all she could taste was the cold. It wrapped around her throat like the hands of a ghost, choking her.

And then, silence.

The whispers stopped. The forest held its breath.

She turned.

And her scream was swallowed by the night.